


Paper, (Un)Written

by stealyourfood



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Innocent Fluff, Young Adora and young catra, unrequited?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:01:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24822754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stealyourfood/pseuds/stealyourfood
Summary: Adora and Catra get their hands on paper. Mainly Catra-centric//Seven-year-old Adora learns of love letters. Rogelio teaches her, and she has no idea where he learnt it from. A paper where you write your love for someone down, and you give it to them. Adora thinks it has to do with marriage, so she happily writes that in.//((ANGST at the end))
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 75





	Paper, (Un)Written

**Author's Note:**

> This is partially inspired by what I observe at work. Children can be so cute.

Sixteen-year-old Catra slides open the loose panel, extracting the piece of paper. It’s silly, she has access to all the paper she needs now. But this paper, it’s different. It’s blank, untouched, yellowing but she takes it out, more carefully than she handled paper all these years.

She takes a pen and starts writing. It takes a good hour to pen down such simple thoughts, probably because it’s so simple. It’s easy to hide precious things behind thorns and complex lies. Some of which she didn’t construct. It’s still a work in progress, but she has it figured out.

It’s love. She’s certain. There’s no other word that she can think of.

She stows the paper away.

Not today.

* * *

Catra is three? Four? She doesn’t really know. But in front of her stands a girl, hair swept back into a ponytail, save a few strands. She has the brightest blue-est eyes Catra has ever seen.

“We’re gonna be best friends!” Adora announces as she holds Catra in her arms. “I just know it!”

Catra smiles weakly, not sure what a ‘best friend’ is. 

She learns.

When Adora grabs her arm, and leads her down the confusing hallways of the Fright Zone, when they hide being a wall, out of sight of the scarier older cadets.

Catra looks down at their hands, at Adora’s back, her messy ponytail bouncing in place, and _oh, is this friends?_

She’s sure it is. There’s no other word that she can think of.

* * *

Six-year-old Adora gets her hands on paper. It’s not that rare a commodity in the Fright Zone, since they use in classes and exams and everything else. But it’s generally kept away from children.

So when her best friend Catra and her discover a stash, carelessly left unattended to, they – well, Catra runs over to grab a few, some crumpled in her too-eager hands. Adora follows, taking some with her.

It’s blank, fresh, new, and smells nice. It’s full of so many possibilities, and the first thing Catra does is crush one up into a ball.

“Hah! Take that!” She flings one at Kyle, who jumps at the impact.

“Ah! I’ve been hit!” He falls down, crying, and Adora takes one look at him – he’s fine, and Rogelio is nearby – before chasing after Catra, tugging on her arm.

“This is so cool! Shadow Weaver is going to be so mad if she finds out!” Catra laughs, ripping another sheet to shreds, before tossing them up like confetti.

Adora thinks it’s very pretty, and scrambles to pick up whatever she can before she’s yanked away by Catra.

They scurry into their room, Catra jumping onto the bottom bunk immediately, and Adora tucks one of the three pieces she salvages, neat and uncreased. She passes the other two to Catra, who is already destroying the other pieces she has.

“You can have these.” Adora thrusts the two papers towards Catra, who eyes them carefully.

“Are you sure?” Catra reaches out despite her words, and Adora nods. Catra almost rips them out of her hands.

“Nice!” Catra lets out a delighted whoop.

* * *

Catra looks at the papers in her room. She managed to stow away the papers for a whole month, and still doesn’t know what to do with them. The others she had taken? They were already used up. But these two pieces are special.

_Adora gave it to me._

“Hey, Catra!” Adora enters, bouncing on the bed, and she’s so close to Catra. Catra likes it though, their closeness. No one is as close as them, and as long as they’re together, they can overcome anything.

“Hey, Adora.” She grins, showing off her new fang.

Adora gasps, and reaches out to Catra excitedly. Catra blinks, not knowing what she is feeling when Adora leans in closer.

“It grew out! Can I touch it?”

Catra nods, and grins even wider. Her lips tingle when Adora’s finger brushes past in her attempt to feel the sharp tooth.

“It’s so cool. Does it hurt?”

Catra shakes her head, no, it doesn’t.

When Adora removes her finger, she feels upset. And she doesn’t know why.

* * *

She comes to a realisation, when Adora grabs her hand, sits beside her, their bodies so close she can feel the heat radiating from Adora’s body after a practice, that

“ _We’re best friends._ ”

Doesn’t satisfy her the way it should. They’re best friends, and what more could they be?

“They get married.” Kyle states, one day, during a break. They’re gossiping about senior cadets, and Kyle always has the weirdest ideas.

“What’s that?” Adora asks, and Catra perks up. Hey, if Adora’s interested, maybe?

“Well, they love each other a lot.”

“More than best friends?”

Catra feels funny at that statement. Her stomach seems to be moving around, almost too high, near her heart. She contemplates what she feels, and Kyle continues.

“Yeah, when you kinda want to … er… what did they say? Spending their lives together!” Kyle beams and Catra swallows.

“Oh, just like Catra and I!” Adora pulls Catra by her arm, and Catra quirks her lips up in a smile.

“I dunno. I think so. Maybe you two will get married.” Kyle states, digging into his ration bar.

Catra likes the sound of that.

* * *

Seven-year-old Adora learns of love letters. Rogelio teaches her, and she has no idea where he learnt it from. A paper where you write your love for someone down, and you give it to them. Adora thinks it has to do with marriage, so she happily writes that in.

“ _Der CatRA. I lov you vry mach and we shold gett Maryied! Pleas Marie me Catra._

_Luv, Adora.”_

It’s decorated with little hearts, with C and A in them. There are a few drawings of Catra and Adora, and what Adora thinks marriage is like. A great feast of grey (only grey) ration bars and … well, that’s what she thinks it is. And they’ll be together forever.

Adora hurriedly scribbles down more words, and folds the one piece of paper, well kept over the years, into half.

“ _You have to be serious when you give a love letter, obviously.”_ Lonnie had told her. _“You have to dress up and look smart. Like super cool._ ”.

Adora thinks she has a cool jacket. It’s a little too big for her, but she thinks it’s cool. It’s red and it has a collar. She puts it on, shrugging it over her small shoulders and buttons it all the way to the top.

“Hmm.” Too stuffy? She releases one button, then two. Nah, too casual. She pushes the buttons through their respective holes again. She grips her collar, stiffening it while marching towards the bunks.

“Oh, you’re back!” Catra grins. “You look kinda funny. But like a good funny.” Her stomach is also feeling a good funny.

“I have something for you.” Adora produces the paper. “You have to read it later. Seriously.” She stares at Catra, completely firm, and Catra nods, sensing the importance.

“Okay.” Her serious job done, Adora takes off her jacket, and falls into the bed beside Catra.

She does not notice Catra’s eye’s widening as she lifts her arm over Catra’s head, tucking her closer

“Are we friends?” Catra asks, and Adora nods.

“Best friends.”

She doesn’t understand why Catra frowns and rolls over, but she turns over and hugs her tightly.

* * *

Catra makes a paper doll for Adora. She carefully tears the paper, producing a crude outline of Adora, ponytail and all. She thinks Adora will like it, and she’s about to slip it under her pillow when Shadow Weaver bursts in.

“Catra. What do you think you’re doing?”

Catra freezes, and she doesn’t know what to do. Usually, Adora is here, and they’ll be fine together, but she’s alone, alone here. And Shadow Weaver is scary.

“You should be out there, training with everyone else.”

“B-but we were given a break.”

“Insolent child. If you have so much free time – wait, what is that?”

Catra gasps, and tries to shove the doll, crumpled as it is, under the pillow. Shadow Weaver grabs her wrist with one of her dark tendrils, and issues a paralysing shock to Catra.

Now rigid, Catra drops the doll, unable to fight back. Her body goes limp.

“What’s this? A doll. A waste of material.” Shadow Weaver rips up the paper, and Catra wants to cry out, to stop her. But she’s locked in place.

“You should utilise your time better. Disappointing.” Shadow Weaver drops the torn scraps, now beyond salvation, onto the floor. “Don’t you dare drag Adora down.”

Catra is released from that horrid grip, and she falls down, coughing and trying to catch her breath.

She’s left with one piece of paper.

* * *

She doesn’t tell Adora what happens, opting to sweep away the shredded scraps away instead. It’s to protect Adora, she tells herself, and she believes Shadow Weaver’s poisonous words.

She decides never to respond to Adora’s love letter, but still keeps that sole piece of paper hidden away.

* * *

Eleven-year-old Catra still looks at the paper from time to time.

It’s been a couple of years, but she still remembers. Marriage, a hopeful, stupid promise. It’s wrong to feel this way. Shadow Weaver keeps telling her that, and she _knows_ that Shadow Weaver is just making use of her, just messing her mind up so she’ll be a good soldier, unquestioning and unwavering.

But that’s now who she is.

So she keeps that paper tucked away, and tells herself she’s fine with being _best friends_ even though it hurts everytime she hears Adora say it.

She doesn’t bring up the letter, not after _the incident_ with Shadow Weaver. She’s not sure which incident. It all blurs together, and she only remembers being – being told how easily she can be discarded.

* * *

Thirteen-year-old Catra grows tougher, and she learns to shrug away most of what Shadow Weaver tells her. Adora’s still there, beside her, still _best friends_ , and they spend so much time staying up and talking about… talking about whatever. Catra can’t remember because she spends more time looking at Adora.

And at night, when Adora sleeps, she stays up, sometimes, just looking, and wondering if there will come a day, where she wakes up, knowing that she’ll wake up with Adora beside her, even when they’re old and wrinkly.

Then her chest always tightens, and she begs for it to stop hammering, to stop, so she won’t feel anything other than _friendship_

She breathes, and forces herself to the edge of the bed instead, curling up.

* * *

Sixteen-year-old Catra slides open the loose panel, extracting the piece of paper. It’s silly, she has access to all the paper she needs now. But this paper, it’s different. It’s blank, untouched, yellowing but she takes it out, more carefully than she handled paper all these years.

She takes a pen and starts writing. It takes a good hour to pen down such simple thoughts, probably because it’s so simple. It’s easy to hide precious things behind thorns and complex lies. Some of which she didn’t construct. It’s still a work in progress, but she has it figured out.

It’s love. She’s certain. There’s no other word that she can think of.

She stows the paper away.

Not today.

* * *

Seventeen-year-old Catra seems to have lost everything. She returns, defeated and alone.

She takes out the papers, reading the words again and again, and again, and again until it’s dotted with her tears.

“ _Der CatRA. I lov yuo vry mach and we shold gett Maryied! Pleas Marie me Catra. I wan tu be wif yuo togeteer Froever! I wil stya by yuor sid_

 _Luv, Adora_.”

She knows the word for how she’s feeling.

Heartbreak.

She’s sure it is. There’s no other word that she can think of. Her response, now a crushed-up paper ball, unfurls a little.

_“Hey Adora, there’s a lot of things I want to say. I guess I’ll with ‘I love you’. I’ve always felt that way, maybe when we were three. I loved you then, and I love you now. Do you remember writing a love letter to me when we were young? I kept it with me all this while. This is my reply to you._

_We’ll be together, forever, and stay by each other’s sides. Of course I’ll marry you, Adora._

_You just need to ask first.”_

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry. I will be posting happier Catradora in a couple of hours, I promise. I have absolutely no idea how this became Angst.
> 
> Talk to me, request stuff, yell at me for writing angst @ [My Writing Twitter](https://twitter.com/souhiwrites) or [My Main Twitter](https://twitter.com/Stealyourfood)


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